He shouted it out from Hamlet's pressed lips That the parsonage owed him a million "white tips" Of the dream that the DOCTOR had planted in mist Had grown to the might of a twelve story b**h Born of malice and might and his doctrine was white He should forfeit his place in the neighbourhood right? With a code head and the sea's read And its boiling from the hot heads Who stick their rash neck in the brine and it's "tears shed" And low-distortion rage collared And your brother resents his cage and its collared And the POLLENATED GIRLS will stop and spin their curls And lo! They have crawled around the world In the semblance of a trade mission's pearl And THE POLLENATED GIRLS spray their spray And I am dizzy like some EARL who had stumbled upon a worker in peril And saved his skin for the tribunal's herald! ls